


Ignite Your Bones

by hesterbyrde



Series: What Carries Weight [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Bondage, D/s, Depression, Dom Phil Coulson, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, F/M, Feels, Fingering, Kink, Kink Negotiation, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn With Feels, Restraints, Sub Melinda May, Teasing, Top Phil Coulson, blowjob, bottom melinda May, mild bondage, rope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:12:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3391340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesterbyrde/pseuds/hesterbyrde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following their conversation after the undercover op at the art gala, Phil discovers that Melinda is taking the task he'd assigned her much harder than he had expected.  In return for her obedience, she asks for a few small kindnesses.</p><p>Contains spoilers up through the end of episode 2x04 "The Face of my Enemy"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ignite Your Bones

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to put all my Coulson/May porn-one-shots into their own series, called "What Carries Weight." While it's not completely necessary to have read them, this fic follows on from my previous two bits of smut: "Shore Leave" and "It Has Been Zero Days."
> 
> The title for this fic is taken from "Fix You" by Coldplay.
> 
> Many thanks to my beta readers, KaminaDuck and LawlessDragon. And of course, thank you for reading! Feedback is always appreciated!

That had been a hard conversation. 

But like so many difficult things, it had been necessary. And the fact that Phil and Melinda gotten it over with would save them from more pain in the future. They wouldn’t have to have the same conversation while the world was falling down around their ears, as it was inevitably going to.

Phil wondered if this was what depression felt like. Just a cold and crystalline clarity that things were never going to get better. Sure, many people were probably under the delusion that things were more ominous and all consuming than they were. That was why there was therapy and drugs for depression of the clinical variety. There were no drugs for what Phil was feeling. He was not delusional. There was no chemical imbalance. He just knew the hard facts. He’d seen the frothing madman that the once practical and lucid Garrett had become. He’d read what he could bear to of his own notes on a few of the T.A.H.I.T.I. Project patients. The thought that he would share their maddening fate nauseated him.

And he told himself that was only because the thought of leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. untended in the event of his madness was completely out of the question. HYDRA was still out there causing untold chaos. That was why he felt the need to assure his own fate and had named May his successor. Who else could it be? Every other possible candidate was dead or in the wind. Or worse... the private sector. It would be irresponsible of him to put his own well-being above that of the world. Especially when his case was so hopeless. And Melinda couldn't run S.H.I.E.L.D. and chase some vague hope for a cure for him at the same time.

After Melinda left, Phil hovered by the duffel she had packed for his impending emergency. He poked at the contents inside, smiling wanly. It really was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for him. She would be faithful to the end, if he let her. Unbidden, the fantasy entered his mind of the two of them together in the Outback, him becoming increasingly agitated and unstable, and her staying with him. Talking him out of each delusion. Holding his hands as they trembled. Phil sniffed and realized there were tears stinging his eyes.

There was a loud knock at his office door. Phil hurriedly wiped his eyes and tossed the duffel beneath his desk. “Come in.” he called.

Agent Tripplet stepped through the door and quickly closed it behind him. His face, normally bedecked with a cheery smile, was shadowed with anxiety as he approached Phil's desk.

“What’s happened?” Phil asked, cocking his head.

“I’d… I’d better just show you.” Tripplet responded carefully. He kept his voice low, as if they might be overheard. “Pull up the security feed from the shooting range downstairs.”

Phil silently complied, and the sight his tablet showed him wrung his heart.

Agent May was crumpled on the floor in the gallery. Her fingers were dug into her scalp and her mouth was open in a silent scream. Phil was instantly grateful that the security feed had no sound. He quickly swiped the image away.

He looked up at Agent Tripplet whose expression had gone from worried anxiety to full on fear and alarm. Phil took a deep breath. “Agent Tripplet. Go cut the feed from the armory for the next hour. I’m going to go see what’s wrong.”

“Yes, sir.” Tripp nodded tersely and made to leave.

“And, Agent Tripplet.” Phil called softly, halting the agent at the door. “Did anyone else see this?”

“Not that I know of, sir.”

“Then don’t say anything to anyone.”

“I’ll take it to the grave, sir.” With that, he was gone.

Phil waited for a few moments to give Tripp a head start and then he headed for the range. It was all he could do to keep from running, and he was grateful he didn’t meet anyone on the way. His poker face was not currently at its best.

The security doors to the armory were locked so that none but the director could open them. Phil briefly wondered if May had done that so that only he could get in, or because that was as secure as she could make herself and she would lock him out too if she could. He certainly wouldn’t blame her. 

When he opened the doors to the armory, his ears were met by a wounded wailing. It made him wince. He really hadn’t expected this. She had been so composed in his office. He steeled himself and rounded the corner into the gallery.

Melinda was still where he had seen her on the security feed, puddled on the floor. She had curled herself against the wall, drawing her knees up to her chest and encircling them with her arms. Her head was bowed and her face was shrouded by her hair. She wasn’t even crying so much as wailing. 

Phil made no effort to approach silently as he was uncertain of whether or not Melinda was armed. It was safest to assume she was. While he may have had a certain amount of peace with his own impending demise, that was not the same as having a death wish. Weirdly, she didn't hear him until he was just a few paces away. When she heard his footsteps, she jumped and looked up, stringy dark hair flying around her face. She saw him and scrabbled back tight against the wall, as if she could make herself smaller or disappear altogether.

Phil knelt down across from her, but said nothing. He didn't know what to say. Melinda had fallen silent when she realized he was there, but after a moment her wracking sobs returned.

“Phil... “ His name was all he got from her for several minutes. Her elegant and usually controlled form shook violently. He'd seen her shake with anger. He'd felt her shake with lust. But he'd never seen this. Not even after Bahrain. This was past all of that. “Phil... I can't.” she said finally, her voice choked and ragged. 

“Oh, Melinda.” Phil whispered, gathering her to him. He didn't know what else to say or do. She felt small and fragile, and that scared him. Her hands found their way under his suit jacket and she held herself against him. She pressed her face against his neck and inhaled with a congested sound. Phil realized what she was doing.

She was mapping him. Remembering him. For when she didn't have him.

In that moment, he was pretty sure he heard the snap of his own heart breaking.

Phil gently stroked her hair, keeping her tucked under his chin. He even rocked her a little as her sobbing quieted. He still had no idea what to say. Maybe he had made a mistake. But who else could he ask for something so important as his own life? Who else could he trust?

Melinda pulled back after a moment, wiping at her swollen eyes. He noticed she didn't pull out of his touch entirely. “I'm sorry. You weren't supposed to see that.” she said thickly. “I just... I needed... I guess I just needed to get that out of the way.”

“I should be the one to apologize.” Phil responded. “It's a horrible thing to ask of anyone, but I don't know what to do. I'm so afraid of ending up like Garrett.”

Melinda just nodded. “I understand. And I'll do it. I just don't know what to do without you. Without your orders to follow. With... without you. Just the thought overwhelms me. I don't... I don't know what I'll be without you.” She bowed her head against his shoulder.

“You don't need me to run S.H.I.E.L.D.” Phil said, caressing her temple and tipping her face up to his. “You will be a fabulous director when the time comes.”

Tears welled in her eyes at his certainty. “That's... not entirely what I mean. I mean... I mean what is someone like me without someone like you?” She flattened her hand against his chest and leaned her face into his palm.

Phil swallowed hard. “I suppose I could ask the same question.” he replied carefully. This was not the direction he had expected this conversation to turn. Sure, they had had sex a couple of times, during which she had submitted herself to him utterly. They had worried it might leak over to their professional lives, but this was far beyond what he expected. He started to realize what he meant to Melinda a little more with each encounter. And vice versa.

Melinda's saturated gaze searched Phil's face for a long moment before she gathered her courage and spoke. “Will you take me to bed, please?” her voice was so small and timid that Phil scarce could hear her over the hum of the ventilation.

“Are you sure?” Phil asked, still stroking her face as if he could smooth all the careworn lines away. “I don't want to make things worse.”

She nodded stiffly. “I want... I want to be able to remember what it was like.”

“What what was like?” 

“Being yours.” she said, eyes full of devotion. 

Phil leaned down and kissed her up turned lips. It was the barest brush, but he couldn't help himself. “You want to be reminded that you're mine?” Just speaking those words stole his breath.

She nodded. “If I'm going to serve you in this awful way, then I want the joy of it as well before it's all over.” she said.

“Fair enough. But I don't think I have it in me tonight to do much that's wild and crazy.”

“Me neither. I'm pretty banged up.” she replied, dabbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. She actually smiled, but only a little.

“Alright, then.” Phil stood and pulled Melinda to her feet. “Meet me in my room in twenty minutes. Wear some sleeping clothes, but no underwear underneath them. We'll negotiate when you arrive. Deal?”

“Deal.” she nodded.

***

Melinda decided to take a quick shower before heading to Phil's room. She was still grimy with sweat from fighting with herself earlier in the evening. Plus, it would help lessen the pain from her bruises and the swelling in her face from her hysterics earlier.

When she was scrubbed, dried, and a little less sore, she selected a set of standard issue gray sleep wear. She felt a little self conscious traversing the halls of the Playground with no underwear on. She knew not many would notice, and no one would dare to say anything if they did. Still though, the thin material of the shirt left little to the imagination, especially if she hit a draft.

She padded quickly to Phil's room, and found the door unlocked. She slipped inside, letting the latch click loudly to announce her presence as she shut and locked the door behind her. Phil was standing beside his bed with his back angled towards the door. He was still wearing his suit, though he'd ditched his shoes, and he was turning something over in his hands. He looked back over his shoulder as she entered and she could see what he was fidgeting with.

Handcuffs.

She couldn't keep her surprise from lifting her brow, but she said nothing.

He smiled at her and held out his hand. She crossed and took it, allowing him to reel her in the rest of the way. His lips met hers as he folded her against his chest. There was nothing possessive or forceful in the kiss. It was like he was savoring her, sliding his tongue across her lips and licking into her mouth. It made her knees weak.

He pulled and let her get her bearings. “Let's talk about tonight, shall we?” he asked. “If you're still interested.”

Melinda nodded mutely and took a step back. She found herself unconsciously assuming her usual stance when receiving orders; feet apart and hands behind her back. She noticed it made Phil smile.

“I was pondering using these tonight.” Phil said, dangling the handcuffs from one finger. “But then I remembered you could dislocate your thumbs.”

Melinda laughed a little at that. “While physical pain is not something that's off the table, I don't think that really qualifies.” she responded.

Phil smiled. “Still... I thought it a little base. And they'd chafe. So I took the liberty of fetching some soft rope from the utility closet.” He pocketed the handcuffs and gestured to the head of his bed. He'd rigged up arm restraints with some pretty elaborate rope work. 

“May I?” she asked. He inclined his head and she reached out and picked up the nearest restraint. The rope was heavy and satiny in her hands. Nylon most likely. “These are impressive. Where did you learn to do this?”

“The Boy Scouts.” Phil answered with a casual shrug. “And the internet.” A wolfish smile spread across on his face. “You can probably outwit these too, but I figure that if you're amenable...” he trailed off.

“How do they work exactly?” Melinda asked.

“Like so.” Phil sat on the bed and slipped his hand through the bottom loop of the restraint. He wrapped his fingers around the knot that fit into his palm and pulled, tightening the loop around his wrist. “See... you have something to grip, and because of the orientation of the knots, it won't cut off circulation, no matter how hard you pull.” He wiggled his hand back out. “Not at all binding if you were really wanting to escape, but I thought we could give it a try if you feel up to it. Or if you'd prefer, we could use the handcuffs.”

Melinda weighed the options for a moment. “I'd prefer the ropes.” she said. “Less likely to leave bruises that I'll have to explain later. And I like the thought of being able to hold onto the restraints.”

Phil nodded his assent. He took both her hands in his, pulling her to stand between his parted knees. He gazed up at her with a serious but warm expression. “Is there anything I should know before we start? Any injuries you sustained tonight?”

“My ribs are bruised. And my left shoulder is sore. It's nothing serious. Ibuprofen and a good night's sleep would solve it, but when you restrain me, it probably shouldn't be kept at too extreme an angle.”

Phil nodded again. “Anything else?”

She shook her head. “What about you?”

“I'm no worse for the wear. A few minor bruises and a split knuckle that's been super-glued closed.”

She nodded.

“Tell me again what you want.” 

“I want to feel like I'm yours. Yours to do with as you will. Completely under your sway.”

“Why?” 

“Because I almost always have been.”

“You just want me to exercise it.” He filled in for her.

“Yes.”

“Anything else?”

She shook her head again.

“Remind me of your safe word, please.”

“Serendipity.” She breathed the word, straightening her spine a little.

“Take off your clothes.”

Melinda swallowed, but didn't hesitate. She lifted the hem of her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Phil had to resist the urge to suck in a breath between his teeth when he saw the giant reddish-purple bruise spreading like ink on her skin. Melinda hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her pants and dragged them down her legs, kicking them off and straightening again.

Phil leaned back a little and smiled as he took her in. Here he was in a suit and tie, and she was wearing nothing but her bruises. She'd gone from clothed and negotiating to naked and vulnerable like someone flipped a switch. He reached up and ghosted his hand along her hip, watching as her skin shivered like that of a fly-stung horse. He sat forward and took one of her nipples into his mouth. She made a soft, high pitched sound in her throat and leaned into him. Phil dug his thumb into the hollow of her hipbone and held her away from him.

“Be still, Melinda.” he whispered against her skin.

“Yes, sir.” she replied shakily as he resumed nipping and sucking at her breasts. She could never tell where his lips would roam next, or when his mouth would be gentle or when his teeth would make her jump and hiss. 

When he had seemed to lick and kiss and bite every inch of skin he could reach, Phil looked up at her. “Sit on the bed.” he told her, as he guided her around to sit beside him. “Spread your legs, and touch yourself. You may not come. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.” she replied, immediately slipping her hand between her thighs and gasping at how wet she already was. 

Phil stood and regarded her. “Legs wider, Melinda.” he instructed, and she obeyed. He watched with a dispassionate expression for a moment, being sure he could adequately see her working herself, before he drifted off to his closet on the other side of the room. He picked apart the knot in his tie, hanging it with the others. Then he slipped off his jacket and placed it on an empty hanger. He divested himself with no great rush, making sure his clothes were neatly put away. He wasn't making a show of himself. In fact he was barely paying attention to Melinda at all save the occasional sidelong glance to make sure she was doing as she was told.

She was caught in a delicious conundrum. She had to make a show of herself for Phil, and she was. Oh how she was. But the more she worked herself, teasing the calloused pads of her fingers over her clit, the closer she got to making herself climax. And it seemed that every time she had to let up, lest she tip over the point of no return, that was when Phil's wandering eye would glance over. She could see from her seat on the bed that his cock was swelling against the front of his boxers. She bit her lip to distract herself from thoughts of what he could do to her with his cock. What he would do to her.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Phil returned to the bed. He was still wearing his undershirt and boxers. He'd found a liking for the idea of her being totally naked while he remained clothed. He stood close enough to touch, but didn't. Instead, he leaned down and breathed along her neck, directly under her ear. “Lie back and put your arms through the ropes like I showed you.”

With great reluctance, Melinda pulled her hand out from between her legs and levered herself up onto the bed. She slipped her hands through the loops of rope, and pulled them taut. Phil smiled at her darkly. He trailed a finger from the hollow of her throat, down through the cleft of her breasts all the way to the folds of her pussy. Her back bowed off the bed, following his touch.

“You are far too eager tonight. At least to please yourself.” Phil mused as he repeated the caress. “I think I'll channel that some place else.” He pulled himself astride her chest, being mindful of her bruises. “Can you reach the headboard with your knuckles?” He asked, smirking down at her.

Melinda nodded, letting go of one of the knots and reaching up to touch the headboard. 

“You're going to suck my cock with that enthusiastic mouth of yours. If you need to be let up. Knock on the headboard three times. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” she confirmed.

Phil braced himself against the headboard with one hand as he pulled his cock free of his boxers with the other. He took a moment to make a spectacle of himself, stroking and pulling at his cock. Melinda's eyes darkened, and her breath quickened as she watched. He noticed she couldn't help but lick her lips. Fuck, she was sexy. “Open your mouth, Melinda.” he ordered.

She did, and he slid himself between her lips. For the first few thrusts he used his hand to guide himself into her mouth, but after a moment, he let go, gripping the headboard with both hands. Melinda moaned around his cock, her hands tensing on the ropes that held them. She wanted to caress him, and angle herself so she could suck all of him down. But she couldn't touch. She could barely even move in this position. She could only lie there and be used. Just suck and taste him on her tongue as pre-come dribbled into her mouth.

“Fuck, Melinda.” Phil spat, as the rhythm of his thrusting hit a hitch. “Do you know how bad I want to just come like this? I've fantasized about it ever since the night after the carving. Where did you learn to suck cock like this?” He knew he was babbling but he didn't care. Her mouth felt so good. She was doing that proverbial thing with her tongue where she would curl it along the sensitive spot on the underside of his cock. She knew exactly where it was. And she knew exactly how to drive him completely crazy with it.

Finally, he had to stop, or he really was going to come down her throat. Appealing as it was, it wasn't what he had planned, nor was it what she had asked for. He crawled down her body and nudged her legs apart with his knees. “Spread yourself open for me, Melinda. I want easy access.” 

She complied, her thighs spreading and her pelvis tipping upward and rubbing the wet folds of her pussy against his cock. As he looked over her display, Phil's lips curled in a cruel smile and he couldn't help letting out a small huff of satisfied laughter. “God, you're eager. And easy. Are you always this easy?”

She shook her head jerkily. “No, sir.”

“Just for me?” He asked, dragging the head of his cock across the slit between her legs.

Melinda let out a high, thin moan before managing, “Yes, sir. Always for you.”

Phil lowered himself over her, so that he could kiss her, but he didn't touch her anywhere else. He could taste himself on her mouth, and that sent a jolt of arousal through his body. He nudged the head of his cock into her pussy and she moaned aloud, arching against him and curling her hips upwards. 

Phil grabbed a handful of her dark hair and twisted it painfully in his grip. Her moan turned to a high half-scream. “Be still. Do not make me ask again.” She went as limp as she could manage, and he loosened his grip on her tresses, but never took his hand away. Instead he leveraged her head so that she couldn't look away from his face as he slid a scant inch of his cock into her body. She moaned again, but stayed still. He began thrusting shallowly and her moans of pleasure turned quickly to moans of frustration and her knuckles whitened around the restraints.

“You want something?” Phil taunted.

“I want... I want to pleasure you.” Melinda replied, but her face was all wrong for a statement of such selflessness. Her need couldn't be any plainer on her features than if it were chiseled there.

“Oh, this is pleasurable for me.” Phil replied calmly. “I could come like this. Can't you?”

Melinda swallowed and tried to shake her head, wincing at his grip on her hair. “No, sir.” she barely whispered.

“So, let's try this again.” Phil said with an icy calm that would have frightened Melinda in any other circumstance. “Do you want something?”

“I want you.” she breathed.

He leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on her lips, his hips never losing their frustrating tempo. “You have me.” he replied. “I'll ask one last time. What do you want, Melinda?”

“Please... God, fuck me. I want to feel your cock splitting me open and I want to come around it. God, please!”

“That's more like it.” And with that, Phil pistoned into her, dragging a ragged primal scream from Melinda's throat. She jerked at the restraints, wanting to get her hands on him and her nails into his back. Her orgasm was only a handful of deep thrusts away, and she screamed his name as he flung her over the edge.

His thrusting never slowed as he now sought his own pleasure. She was forge-hot and so wet. He gazed down at her face with rapture as his climax slammed into him, filling her with a hot rush of come. 

Afterward, they both remained frozen, gasping for air as aftershocks quaked through their limbs. After a moment Phil reached up and eased her wrists out of the ropes, massaging the marks left on each in turn. Melinda trembled in his arms as he pooled her against his chest. He tucked her head under his chin and she pressed her face against the soft fabric of his shirt.

They were quiet and still for a long time before Melinda tipped her face up to look at him. “I need to ask you something.” she said softly.

“Anything.” 

“I want to put a condition on our... agreement. For if things go south.”

“Okay.”

“Let me try to help you before I have to do anything drastic.”

Phil looked down at her piteously. “Melinda, I can't be helped.”

“You really don't know that.” she replied stubbornly. “You just don't want to to chase what could possibly be vain hope. You've never liked doing that. But here's the bottom line. I can live with what you've asked me to do, if you let me try to help you first. So I can console myself that I did what I could before I had to do what couldn't be undone.”

“What hasn't already been tried, though?”

“Have you talked to Skye?” she asked. The question fell like a stone into a still lake.

Phil just shook his head.

“Well, if things get bad that might be step one. Or maybe you should do it before things get bad.”

“Worse you mean.”

“She might know something.”

“Or she might be carving, too.”

“I've been keeping an eye on her, but I haven't seen any symptoms yet.”

Phil nodded after a moment. “You're right.”

“So... my condition stands? I get to at least try?”

Phil nodded and pressed his forehead against hers. He felt his icy clarity about the whole situation beginning to melt, and he feared for a moment that it might be replaced with the equally numbing fear of the unknown. But there was no unknown. Melinda was the constant in the equation that would balance everything. She would do her best and either save him or end him. She had given him her word, which as far as he was concerned was good as gold. And somehow he felt better... less guilty now that he was going to give her a chance to save him.

Melinda pulled back a little and looked into his eyes, as if she might be guessing his thoughts. Then she reached down and pulled the blanket over both of them, tucking it around him carefully before settling herself against his chest again. She kissed him softly, a brush of lips so tender that it made Phil's chest ache. Then she curled herself around him and relaxed into the soundest sleep.

Phil felt her go limp and sink down against his chest. Her breathing evened out into steady puffs against his cotton shirt. 

This was paradise. 

That was his last thought before sleep claimed him as well.


End file.
